June 01, 2004
.06.01.04. - you in? [kemp-rumor-ratchet] *fng

[downtown - cont'd from last scene]

(rumor)
New(ish) board. New to her anyways. This one not as tattered and stickered. This one cost her a whopping $14 at a flea market. She had managed to save almost all the money James had given her. Roxy said next week she could start work. The cell phone, although she has had no need for it, was still in the fanny pack thing she had also gotton at the flea market.

The board however wasnt being used. In fact it was under one arm, held tightly to her side as both arms wrapped around Evil Kineval as he whipped up and around the turns. Thank God she wore the helmet. At least his head would heal.

( kemp)
Flying around the corner at a breakneck speed. Yelling over the engine and wind. "Stop poking me!" Damned board kept digging into his side with each lean in that direction. Down shifting with the change of lights head. "Well crap." He hated to slow down. Cocking a look over his shoulder at Rumor when he finally did stop for the light. "Did you have to bring the board?"

(rumor)
"did you have to bring the board" she repeats, and adjusts the board so that it wasnt digging into his ribs anymore.
"You were there when i got on the bike..ya coulda told me to stash it somewhere" answered quickly as she keeps her grasp tight around his waist. Head noear his shoulder so her words could be heard over the rumble of the bike...

"plus what else would ya have to bitch about if it wasnt that"
she grins at him
Looks up at the light as it turns green.
And goes back into the position of prepare for take off That she had grown so accustomed to.

"Green." she announces the light change to him.

(ratchet)
picking through the pile, bag carefully torn into, nose wrinkling at the wafting scent. 3 day old egg salad. yuck. bag tossed aside, another one probed, before torn into and a pleased hmmm is voiced as fingers pluck a much more recently tossed partial sandwich free. wilted lettuce is tossed aside, as is the tomato, and fingers shove the rest of the not quite rotted, but getting there quickly sandwich into mouth in three bites, chewed once and swallowed quickly. not a lot but will carry her over until Steven gets off work.

something hard is poked with ragged nail, bag torn to see what treasure awaits within, before digging farther to examine the piece of wood, brow creasing with thought.

head cants, and then it’s tossed aside, a use for it not thought of right away, so moving on to find something else. until there, in the very bottom corner, a small little box. dig dig dig until object is recovered, and gaunt form grasps the edge of the dumpster with one hand, launching skinny body over the edge to land in a crouch on dirty alleyway floor. coat of many pockets settles around feet as fingers examine the little box to determine what exactly it is – or could be.

(kemp)
"I can see." Just for that he took off extra fast, the force pushing him back into her with a squeal of tires. Going through the gears swiftly. Finding it necessary to weave around a car not going fast enough in front of them. Don't do it, don't say it. Be good. Not nice to tell girls they could store things up their ass. Since when did you ever care if it was nice or not? Internal battle going on and the only way he had to take it out if not with his mouth, was to drive like a demon.

(imogen)
"Might," reduced to one word responses as she blows air slowly out of her mouth, looking over the room. Debating perhaps other possibilities, before turning her attention back, and making her way toward the wrench, leaning down to swoop up her untouched beer in a gloved hand.

Deviated a third time. Imogen is a perceptive woman, and despite appearances, she is not always cold. "It isn't your fault, you know." Abruptly, bluntly, quietly, as she drops the beer on the table beside him. "Even if it was yer room."

That said, she turns her attention toward the wrench, eyeing it warily. Uneven surface. Fingerprints, not so good. The glass has a better chance. If they touched it. She fingerprints both.

She'll dust those and some likely surfaces. Methodical and mostly quiet, absolutely pragmatic in her methods and half lost to the steps of her day to day job, brought outside of traditional. Or maybe not quite so. Tape is used to lift each print, carefully sealing them away. James is fingerprinted, not with dust, but ink that stains his fingers. He knows the drill. Imogen's offer of protection, to avoid even running the risk of running his fingerprints through any system she might have at her disposal.

It's probably quite late at night when she is finally done.

(kemp)
Screaming over the sound of the engine and the wind that was whipping his hair back onto the helmet she wore. "You fucked a what!?" Almost looking back at her with that one. Talk about getting killed. Distract him with thoughts of kinky sex and they were done for. "Gonna go watch that hotel for a bit!" A sudden lurch to the right to avoid the car putting on brakes in front of them. "Fuck!" Sure his heart got stuck in his throat there for a moment till he got around the car without incident. "I meant to do that!"

(rumor)
Nothing better then having the driver of the kiling machine turn back to look at the passenger.
yeah Ok but whos watching the Road.

He says something about the motel...before she actually watches as they almost become a part of the back end of a car that just happened to be in Kemps way.

I meant to do that....yeah sure, course he did Smirk crosses her face until she puts 2 and 2 together...


"THE Motel?" she calls back above the background noise..."whatthehellfor?"
(kemp)
Looking back over his shoulder again with a roll of his eyes before paying attention to where he was going again. "What the hell do you think for? Duh?" Sometimes girls just didn't make any sense at all. "Just hold on!" Leaning into the next turn with a down shift of gears. In the next moment they were straightening again and flying along the street as fast as he could manage before something got in the way again.

(ratchet)
skinny form moves toward the edge of the alley, making use of the meager light, body folding once more into comfortable crouch as little metal box is set by feet. sound blossoms in serious of clicks with flash of silver in hand, grubby fingertips fingering bits that hang like charms from bracelet wrapped twice around skinny wrist. once chosen, slid home into the ratchet, and nimble fingers make quick work of taking apart the treasure found.

screws loosened, pulled out, set aside, the box soon falling into pieces spread before tattered shoes in an array that makes no sense to anyone but the little runt who’s working on them.

noises flow around, mostly ignored as fingers pause to dig at shoulder, at neck, and up under hat. dirty ribbed material pulled firmly over misshapen ears once more, and fingers fall again to the items before her.


(rumor)
So she holds on, good thing she couldnt see the rolling eyes or shed have givin him a good jab in the ribs for that one.
"I am holding on, if i hold on any tighter my boobs are gonna be coming out the front of your chest instead of mine."

a pause..what the hell do you think for? Duh?? Kemp had no logic behind his thoughts, you never KNOW what hes thinking...but she doesnt ask, she just holds on.

(kemp)
"Hey, I might like that." Engine slowing with pressure to brakes as he started to slow to come to a stop across the street from the hotel. "I mean, hell if I had tits, I'd spend all my time standing in front of the mirror, topless. Wouldn't leave home for days at a time." Wiggling his brows with a look back at her.

(rumor)
Shes tired. only someone who really looked at her eyes would be able to tell she was tired. She hadnt slept well, not since that night. She had faked it, and hadnt complained about the lack of sleep. Not once. She didnt need anyone givign her any added attention when they had already helped her out so much. So while Kemp slept nearcy, and she was given the matress, she had kept eyes closed for 2 nights now. But she hadnt slept.
could have been worse yannow. Could have been worse.

She chuckles..."yeah but im thinkin ya wouldnt actually -touch em-" she winks..."just look at them all day" She lets one foot steady herself on the gruond. She wasnt tall enough for both feet to touch if she was sitting on the bike.

Tired eyes glance across the street to the motel. pause she watches for a second..not even sure what she was supposed to be looking for...but something about the place just made her stomach do a flip flop. Helmet comes off and she does a quick tossle of her own hair to un-hempet head it as the browins auburn shag falls right back into her eyes.

(kemp)
Turning the bike off with a narrowed look towards the hotel. "Are you nuts? If I had tits, I would touch them so much they fell off." Frowning slightly before looking back at Rumor. "Hey, who's that near the alley there? You remember what those freaks looked like? That one of them?" Nodding towards Rachet crouched down there.

(ratchet)
sound of bike causes gaze to snap up, dark eyes sliding over the two figured on the bike, narrowing slightly. recognize them – they was with elderman the night they met. head cants, slight, before skinny form melts a little farther back into shadows, and sound resumes.

clickclickclickclickclick

pieces studied, some tossed back up into the dumpster down the way, others tucked into random pocket in coat of one color. other pockets bring replacements, and the little box that was taken apart, slowly begins to come back together again, tiny pieces, smaller screws, all placed where they belong with a precision that rivals the best schooled jeweler.

(rumor)
Body tenses. She looks over to where he is pointing.
It was dark, she couldnt see shit...someone crouching in the alley. And then it seems to melt back into the shadows...
"yeah i remember what the Jerry Springer couple looked like, but since i dont have night vision glasses i have no clue who that is over there."
The bike has stopped. They are safe from crashing. However with his words and spotting someone anyone for some reason her arms are stil around his waist holding on with a kungfudeathgrip. She obviously had forgotton they were stopped, and hadnt quite made the message from brain to arms to let go.

(kemp)
"You couldn't see that?" Looking back at her a little surprised. Never occured to him that he saw better than she did at night. "Well hell, ain't gonna do no good way over here if ya can't see shit." With that he was starting the bike again to calmly for him, head for the very same alley Ratchet went in.

(rumor)
"WAIT" the word comes out before she thinks.

(kemp)
Skidding to a halt to frown back at her. "What? Ya see something, or ya gotta pee or what?"

(rumor)
Shaking her head she just glances towards the alley and then back to him..."no, i mean...i just thought...." eyes making their way back towards the alley and she puts on the tough act, since anything else was whining or complaining in his eyes.
"nothing....no biggie, go on"

(ratchet)
she didn’t go far, just a slight lean back into the hiding shadows, still close to the mouth of the alley, where light catches and glints on the shiny tool that stands out as it is in pristine condition, unlike the rest of her.

fingers lift, ragged nails tearing just under ear, along jaw, before back of hand slides along neck. a sniff, and dark eyes glance up to see what the other two are doing... bike starts again, head cants to the left, then gaze falls again to the work at hand.

(kemp)
"Will ya make up your mind? I need you to keep your eyes open and if anyone looks just a little bit like the ones that did this shit, I want ya to say so. I'll take it from there, don't worry." Heading for the alley again, headlight flashing across Ratchet to put her in stark relief when closer. "Oh hey, I seen you before." And that was about his response to finding Ratchet playing around in the alley.

(james)
there comes a point in the night James is no longer of service to Imogen's investigation
at such time, the Ahroun left her to the work and navigated downstairs
five stories below to the room reduced to little more than splintered wreckage earlier in the afternoon
(full moon's tomorrow night, after all, Jamey-boy)
Corcoran's shove aside the sharp-nailed, fabric-webbed boards that used to be a couch
making enough room to right-side-up the dresser and search for something resembling a towel

given they inhabited the room with exactly no preparation: all his gear is something other than accessable
but that doesn't stop the Gnawer from spending a few minutes trying to steam the agitation from his frame

soon, dirty BDUs pulled back on over stickily wet flesh
t-shirt abandoned in some form of salvation tucked half into a back pocket
wouldn't even be worth it under the soaked weight of dreads
besides, it's nearly 70 degrees out - he'll dry on the way

or at least be dry enough to put the tee on before getting to a place populated enough that the naked scars on his back would draw unwanted attention

Mauricio's granted a look that sends him shriking behind the bar-guarded desk
the (still fuming) Ahroun giving no quarter as he stalks through the lobby
shoulder shoving open the forgotten hotel's once-opulent front door
(and that blistering Rage rolls forth deadly shockwave)


(rathet)
bike turns, and headlight spills over skinny runtish form, and the tension coils over skinny crouched body. eyes stare, glancing up to meet the gaze, before falling again, shrinking into filthy coat, trying to sink beneath the cement even as fingers start plucking up pieces as fast as possible, otherwise poised in flight or fight mode....

....kemp speaks then, and fingers pause over the collection of bits and screws, and gaze flicks up again, before chin falls in sharp nod, voice barely making the distance over the rumble of motor.

(clickclickclickclickclick)

“with elderman, yes.”

(kemp)
Turning light and engine off after the second it took to realize he was putting Ratchet in the spot light. "Right, Kemp. What was your name?" And his chin was lifting, nostrils flaring with a sudden stillness to his body as the wave of rage washed outwards to crawl over his senses.

(rumor)
Ok fingers unlace from around Kemps waist now that she is sure it wasnt the mullet twins in the alley, and she actually gets off the bike, setting the (not so) new board down and placing one converse on it to keep it in place. However brave as that may seem She doesnt go 5 staps away from Kemps side. Fuck that, freaky things were out here in the night. She learned that. And to think, she had been livin on these streets all this time, wasnt until

she was safe in a room that shit happened.

"ratchet right?" she nods towards the odd girl and glances around quickly....not that she could see much of..
well..

anything.

(james)
tuuuuurnnnn...... right
direction chosen to follow no particular whim
most likely it follows some vague memory of an establishment about a mile away
and while his walk seems easy enough
that practically trademarked ground-devouring effortless step of a street kid?
born and bred to hike across town without a second thought?
it's easy to see the raggedyman isn't in the best of moods

maybe it's the heavy moon
maybe it's being back in that room

but it's a poetic picture of tension
beginning with the brood darkening the shadows beneath his brow
melting into the lines that coarsen rugged jaw
to the iron set squaring shoulders
down the lines of muscle and tendon mapping arms
all the way to the hands half-balled to fists

pushing on past that all..... stop. back up a step.
wet dreads slide over shoulders when head tips
it's not the sound of the bike's engine cutting that catches his attention
it's the pricklyspine feeling of pack

(ratchet)
chin dips, and lifts again, sharp – animalistic – the nod at the words offered, both Kemp and Rumor. “ratchet.” agreement then, and fingers still hover over the pieces spread around feet, before slowly, only after the bike is off and light has allowed night to fall again around little monster, slowly she begins to work once more, slowly now, still ready to grab and run, the sound constant as she works. “hi Kemp-rhya, Random-Rumor.”

clickclickclick

rage boils, sliding around the corner and again gaze snaps up gaunt form sinking farther into coat, attempting to disappear until recognition settles in. slight, the relaxation. “elderman.”

(kemp)
"Huh?" Attention mostly on where the feel was coming from. Half turned on the seat of the bike to face back towards the street. Somewhere in there what Ratchet had called him brought the questioning Huh? from him. Sliding slowly from the bike to face the mouth of the alley now.

(rumor)
Kemp turns towards the mouth of the alley, She has no clue what feeling he had, only that the huh was accompanied by him turning and sliding off the bike.
wherethehellareyougoing?
Eyes narrow as she glances out towards the mouth of the alley. Nice...everyone could see in the dark obviously except her. Hands shove into pockets, perhaps more of a newvous habit then anything else.

It was obvious something(someone) was out there. Frankly she was hoping it was a pizza delivery guy who got lost with a large double cheese pepperoni or something.

(james)
the picture would be inspiring:

framed by the walls creating the alleyway and night's full-moon halo'd sky high above
far off streetlights catching whatever moisture's left from the shower
juxtaposing the backwash bounce silhouette of his frame
midnight inks coiling down the inside of his right arm
wet dreads forming heavy mane on yoke of strong shoulders
chin tilting in proud lift of Warrior's salutation
("elderman"...... pack)

it's be downright romantically inspiring
if James wasn't the living, breathing version of a nightmare
presence riding the invisable waves of oh so dangerous Rage
lethal animal held quite carefully at bay behind deep umber eyes

he doesn't move to enter the alley
pawning it off as a casual how do? questing glance
(.....he doesn't want to scare two of them)

(ratchet)
they continue to watch, and feel, and listen, and nostrils flare

sniffsniff...

before fingers continue to work, dipping into random pocket, finding screw that fits and slides into place with practiced ease. tool flips into hand, tightening screw, before bits are exchanged for another, and the box is finally put together completely.

head cants, slightly, and the lid is closed. box flipped in hand, and the key there turned once, twice, and then grubby fingers set the box back on filthy ground. lid lifted slower, this time, and there’s a hum of satisfaction as the medly Fur Elise tickles metallic into the sudden silence, the music box now back in working order.


(kemp)
A lift of his chin towards James and he was stepping out of the alley to join his packmate. Smaller than his packmate, his own clothing consisting of baggy jeans and one of the tees Tristan had picked up for him in the second hand shop. "Hey." Gesturing back towards the alley, even if James was aware who was back there. "Came to see if maybe we might pick up something."

(rumor)
It would be downright romantically inspiring....if it wasnt night. If the moon wasn't so close to full. If she wasnt only feet away from where her current nightmares began. If she hadnt already been on edge. If she didnt have that feeling she had...for the brat who liked belching and talking about boobs.
if if if if if if if
Previously....The girl would have been caught in a storm of hormonal admiration. For James wasnt just the elder, he wasnt just poetic eye candy, he wasnt just Kemps packmate. He also was the one to have helped her, the one to have talked to her, the one to have guided her...
(the one to have saved? her)

And upon his arrival...
there was MUSIC

No wait. That was a music box, and this time, in her current state, the normal reaction of staring and trying not to mix up constinants and vowels was just not present.

In fact, she remained calm, almost as if she wasnt quite even seeing him there.

Moving steps up behind Kemp but off to the side a bit to keep up with the conversation.

"He wanted to see if there was something to pick up..." a pause... "But they are long gone...right...i mean those 2, they skipped town, dontcha think?"
her tone pleading.
PLEADING
And she finds herself at Kemps side, just because the shadows of the darkness mixed with parts of the moons light seemed to be getting too fucking close.

(james)
deep umber eyes stray towards the metallically whispering medly
(can music soothe the savage beast?)
but stray to meet his packmate's approaching gaze
if indeed the tune coaxed a smile to soften his expression
it disappears far too quickly to assess

"Ain't smell'd 'm roun' when I w's out b'fore." exhaled in tones resembling throaty grrrrooowwwwl more than polite conversation "Dunn nah. Im'gen lif'ed prints bit 'go a see if we c'n fine 'em tha' way."

"She wan' yours, too. 'ffic'ally" this directed at Rumor as she hovers behind the young Rotagar "F'r c'mpar'son. Rec'rds'll dis'ppear af'r."

(rumor)
She nods. "k where do i go to do that? Police station?" asked methodically as if she wasnt all there. The whole place made her nervous, the fact they were hanging in the alley made her scared, the only saving grace was that there were bigass fucking Garou surrounding her, so she knew at least if monsters were to appear, shed be ok.

(kemp)
"She's the only thing I had to go on, so thought they might come back and she might reconnize them." When grasping for straws you went with what you had. "Maybe the other one was out here in the alley that night?" A look back towards Ratchet.

(ratchet)
everyone gravitates to elderman, and with a satisfied hum she reaches to close the box, music stopping, before she opens it again, to once more give birth to tune. head tips, slightly, and then with nod, the box is closed, and tucked away into pocket. extra parts (pocket parts) disappear as well, until area is clean as when arrived.

only then does gaze lift to the trio at the edge of the alley this time, while fingers automatically replace bits to place on bracelet, favored tool cleaned against dirty denim across skinny thigh before tucked into hand. grubby fingers dip into another pocket, and little green beanie frog is pulled free and rubbed against cheek, before she unfolds, mostly, and moves toward then, before sliding back again to comfortable (comforted!) crouch near them, listening, the beanie froggie finding resting place on bony knee as box reappears and a bit of torn cloth is used to shine it up.

(james)
"Nuh.... she'll take'm priv'te, won' make it a p'lice rec'rds."

if he's trying to alleviate some of her fears
his tone probably isn't helping all that much
cause it's still laced with that unavoidable bitterness
deep earthy eyes wander to the slinky little shadow covering ratchet's approach
then it flicks to Kemp

"Ask 'r if she seen 'm, then." chin lift indicating it's Kemp's call "Though'f Im'gen come' up wi' names, you in?"

a brow lifts in question
it's pretty obvious he's going to hunt the fuckers down, regardless
however, the Elder's caught on to the friendship shared by Kemp and Rumor
offering the boy first chance for action if he wants it

.... but the stern lines to his frame soften, practically imperceptibly
as the flash of green catches his attention
he's far too riled under the pregnant moon for compassion's warmed smile to succeed in making an appearance

(kemp)
"You have to ask?" Grumbling inside. He was pack, Kemp had followed to hell and back before, both personal hell and two caern encounters. He'd go if it meant his death. "What if she don't find nothing?" Turning towards Ratchet with a considering look. Mumbling to Rumor. "What night of the week was it?"

(james)
"Yeh.... s'matter a respec'." grunted. smirked. (hanging around that Modi WAY. TOO. LONG. Jamey-boy) though it's almost colored by a deep chuckle "Think I'm jus' g'nna 'ssume y'r g'nna jump a th' monst'rs face?"

for the love of Gaia
that was a joke out of the angry Full Moon
hopefully, the Rotagar got the point

"She dun' fine nothin' we go talk a s'me spir'ts 'n track'm supernatch. Her way jus' easier."

(rumor)
A sigh and a shrug as she counts now...."Friday..." she listens to them as they talk about what was to come of it and the way it was to go.
She didnt like the feeling, she didnt like the conversation and she really didnt like bein out here..
Board moves a bit..as converse pushes it up the alley a bit and then back..just needing tomove around and breathe air.

(kemp)
"Well yeah." A faint nod of the shaggy head. "Kemp." Pointing at a place in the air. "go get it!" Shrugging with a sheepish grin. "Duh, ok."
Shifting his attention to Ratchet. Going so far as to crouch down near her. "Hey, were ya out here Friday? Maybe hanging out here, looking for treasures?"

(james)
the Elderman can't help but smirk another pseudo-grin
they were all damn proud of Kemp for what he did in that battle

"Still piss' you los' my sticks."

grumbled in what may very well be good natured
(Full Moons are said to do straaange things to people)
but he quiets down to let ratchet answer

(ratchet)
head cants, and dark eyes lift to watch them, brow creasing in thought as she listens, before looking up at elderman, then back to the other two. definitely something going on she is not a part of, but no one’s kicked her away yet, so she remains. little music box reclaiming some of it’s beauty as she continues to shine it.

Kemp crouches, and gaze snaps back up again, falling perfectly still, waiting, watching, until he talks, soft, asking question. brow furrows slightly as she thinks about it. then, soft sigh. “sorry, Kemp-rhya, not Friday. southside Friday. looking for more lurchymanned who throwed up centipedes that tried to sting ratchet. find someone rolling bums. not nice. ratchet and steven taked care of him though.”

sigh, head hangs, shoulder hunches. “sorry, rhya..”

(kemp)
"I lost them?" A look towards James for a second. He couldn't tell anyone what happened after that terrifying leap of faith and desperation except he'd seen that fucker way too close and seen the sticks go into the eye about the sametime he felt something slam into him with enough force that shock at taken away all pain and consciousness with it. "Gotta get some new ones, I guess." Shifting his attention back to Ratchet with a glance towards Rumor for a moment. She was as fidgity as a cat. "Hey, don't worry about it, ya done good." Reaching out to very softly pat her hat covered head. Adding softer. "Just Kemp, I ain't nothing special like a rhya or nothing." Slowly straightening back up.

(rumor)
"Threw up what?" she looks at ratchet and then to Kemp and James...

"did she just say someone barfed up bugs that tried to sting her?"

a pause and she ALMOST says something more....but doesnt.

(kemp)
"Yep, sure did." A lift of his chin to James. "Give me a yell. I'm gonna get her back to the factory before she forgets how to hold on." Indicating Rumor with a cock of his chin.

(ratchet)
... she stiffens as the hand comes close, but at pat, that is not a hit, a slap, a kick, but given with praise, she relaxes again and nods... “everyone Rhya to someone, cept ratchet, monster. kemp rhya to ratchet, elderman rhya to both.”

and then she looks up at Rumor, a quick glance, before gaze falls again and she nods. “centipedes. big too. long as ratchet’s arm. nasty. stung stupid shadowlord right in balls. was funny, after.” head ducks a little, hiding the amusement that flickers through gaze.

(james)
dark eyes drop to the small creature as she sighs explanation
behind the broiling thesad of Auspice torment
there's a twinge of something as ratchet's head hangs in sorrow
and maybe, just maybe, it softens the edges of rugged smile

"S'allrigh', Ratch't, no fault a yours.... he's righ', ya done good takin' care a that mean guy."

the breif moment of compassion passes in amused snort

"Yeh.... you shove'm inna th' EYE 've a monst'r 'n killit." there is amusement glittering in darkly stormed eyes, showing the kid he's just teasing "Think I wan'em back aft'r?"

the disastrous duo's departure is acknowledged by another Eagle-style nod up
Coo'
but then the Elderman's head tilts
taking his turn to sink down before the huddled metis

"Lurchyman throw up cen'ipedes?"

(kemp)
Pausing with a frown creasing his brow. "Ya ain't no more monster than I am Ratchet. Fuck, I'm a bigger monster, I'd bet. Anyone tells ya different, ya call me, I'll kick their fuckin ass up between their ears."

(kemp)
Heading back for the bike with a touch to Rumor's elbow. "Come on." Adding in a mumble. "Hope ya ain't forgot how to hold on."

(rumor)
She smirks and flips the board back into her hand...moving towards the others once more.

"He aint kiddin...hes a much bigger monster...and he snores" she winks at ratchet and smiles.

Trying to put OUT OF HER MIND the thought of ANYONE barfing up bugs...

kinfolk here people...
Barfing up BUGS?

"yeah i guess we are outta here...and oh i got the holdin on part perfected"

(ratchet)
Gaze shifts up toward Kemp (rhya) and studies him a minute, to see if he’s teasing, before there’s a shy tip of head, ducking to hide face again. some things are very hard to believe though, with lifetime of teaching different. but she’s heard more things like that here, then anywhere before. even cold rain couldn’t make Twister’s youngest child leave Chicago now.

elderman crouches down, and grubby fingers offer the music box for his examination, now almost as shiny as treasured tool, before fingers slide to grasp the beany froggy and hold it close as she nods. “Big ones. very icky. stink too. Lurchy man went for bum in box. couldn’t save him in time, tried. but too many centipedes for ratchet and Anton – shadowlord – to get through. ended covered in centipede goo, jo make ratchet take bath again.”

makes a face, distaste of baths already having been discussed in prior meetings. but there’s a shrug. “Anton bite lurchyman in half, more bugs come out, ratchet kill ‘em all. one almost got ratchet on back, smashed him against wall.” pause. almost a grin. “kicked one so hard took out lots of others too. squished ‘em good. Cept one that stinged Anton in balls. he screamed like little girl, and squished it really good. Steven got there then, and burned up rest, and we went home. haven’t seen anymore lurchymans, but have been looking just in case. not nice to pick on streetfolks in boxes. ratchet don’t like that at all. s’why took care uppity Fang who rolled bums too. but just beat him up. left him take rap of dead bum in alley.”

(james)
brows lift a little as the shiney box is offered
but nonetheless, James reaches to gently take it from the little creature
gently flipping the top open to allow Fur Elise into the alley's solitude again
listening to the tinny melody harmonize with her veritable avalanche of words
(never heard her speak this much before!)

"Dunn good, Ratch't. I dunn like that eith'r." the cadence of a smile swims on Rage-hardened features, approval for her actions, for her effort put into the story.... though most likely it's because he looked up and saw her clutching so belovedly that little frog "'m proud a yeh."

it doesn't take a genius to know how low her self-image has been forced
nor a therapist to realize just how deeply ingrained the concept is
and even for the full moon shining silver brilliance in the sky above
maybe the music did have its effects
along with the simple (pure. genuine.) presence of the young Garou
cause for some reason.... the past hours just seem to slip away

musician's nimble fingers carefully lower the box's shiney top
returning the alley to it's filling silence of city's grey noise
and the Elderman stretches slowly to stand
distal rays bouncing off the bricks highlighting the dark patterns on his skin
a flash turning swirled ink iridescent when arm reaches to return the treasure
light's wavepanel course carrying it to skim across skin raised by glyph's brand on his chest
feline twisting stretch latticing the rays across brutal clawmarks ashed black on his back
horrible extension of the dreadlock's wayward tangle
some Crinos claws almost removed his spine at some point
multiple slashes falling from shoulders to dive beneath the waist of his BDUs
by the sheer trauma epicized by Rite darkened marks - whatever it was almost succeeded

"'m cravin' pizza....." mused softly though his gaze travels to midnight's velvet high above, lost in a moment's thought before it falls to earth beneath a brow raised in curiosity "Hungry?"

head tips back towards Cook Street waiting beyond the alley's mouth
invitation to a hot meal if she's willing to accompany him - Elderman's treat

(ratchet)
ooc: fade, so you can get going - and yes, she'd accompany him. no one turns down an elderman! specially with food!

Posted by james at June 01, 2004 12:00 AM